accepted him this morning. But--" and this awful thought caused her
whole countenance to change. "Now I come to think of it, the usual
getting married means you would have to stay with the man--wouldn't you?
And he wants--he wants to kiss--I mean," hurriedly, "you would be lovely
to marry because I would never have to see you again!"

Michael Arranstoun put his head back and laughed; she was perfectly
delicious--he began to dislike Mr. Greenbank.

His tea was quite forgotten.

"Er--of course not," he agreed. "Well, I could get a special license,
if you could tell me exactly how you stand, and your whole name and your
parents' names, and everything, and we could get their consent--but I
conclude your father, at least, is no longer alive."

Miss Delburg had a very grown-up air now.

"No, my parents are both dead," she told him. "Papa three years ago, and
Mamma for ages, and I never saw them much anyhow. They were always
travelling about, and Mamma was a Frenchwoman and a Catholic. Her family
did not speak to her because she married a Protestant and an American.
And the worry it was for me being brought up in a convent! because Papa
would have me a Protestant, so I do believe I have got a little religion
of my own that is not like either!"

"Yes?"

She continued her narrative in the intervals of the joy of munching
another cake.